A short update.
Went to my doc the other day. He wanted to see how things were going twelve days hence. Poked. Prodded. Listened. Laughed at what I’d said to the heart doc.
Then said, sort of out of nowhere, “I’m glad we did the stress test.”
“Finding that blockage in your stent was a good catch.”
“If we’d gone any longer, and if we’d had an event…I’m not sure you would have made it.”
Notice how it was ‘we’ up until the part where I die?
Of all the things I wanted the doctor to say, that was so not on the list.
The blockage had been minor, but it was in a stent and apparently that concerned him. So he told me I could have died.
I love this doc, really I do. He does not varnish anything. When I had cancer, he didn’t really even tell me. He started with who my oncologist was going to be. I’m good with that. Don’t screw around, don’t dip it in powdered sugar, just give it to me.
But this time?
“…not sure you would have made it.”
I coulda used some varnish. Just a little.